Late Nights
by jocular monoceros
Summary: Late nights shouldn't have been alien to her, or as tiring as they now seemed to be; she was used to them back home after all. And yet here she found herself sitting in an office, weary from the night's work. Implied ShikaTema.


**A/N:** This story was meant to be dedicated to my friend Sid, who most likely won't even read this story. I have two lines of one of our conversations saved on a word document, the inspiration to this story. I was going to write it as a dedication to him before he started at his new college but it's been six months since then. He never made me feel any less than I was, he always called my stupid decisions, and six months ago he was yet to let me down. But for all the years he was there, and for all the years I hope he still will be, I dedicate this to him.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Naruto_. All characters within this fanfiction belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

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**Late Nights**

Late nights shouldn't have been alien to her, or as tiring as they now seemed to be; she was used to them back home after all. Herself and her brothers had often chosen to get a little extra work done too, regardless of how late it was. And yet here she found herself sitting in an office, weary from the night's work.

Sitting behind a handsome oak desk, hidden between mountains of paperwork, Temari sat with her head in her hands. With a huge sigh, she shook her head, lids closing as she shielded her eyes from the literal growing mound of work that had accumulated at her desk. Work, work, work. That's all she'd done since she arrived in Konoha. Given, that's what she was there to do but it was just so… mentally draining. What happened to the good old days of missions that required leaving the village, let alone a desk? Although, technically she _had_ left her home village to come here… to the mountain of paper waiting for her to sort through.

A knock on the door sought her attention and she slowly turned her head, too tired to wonder who was there.

With the lamp of the office offering very little light outside of the immediate desk vicinity, she only made out the outline of the figure who entered the room. But an outline was all she needed. Tall and lean with a pineapple for a head. Who else could it be but her dear guide?

"What are you doing here, pineapple head?" she asked absentmindedly, as if she had asked him to pass the syrup while eating pancakes at breakfast.

"Looking for you," came the answer before he stepped into a part of the room where she could actually see his face. As he made his way over to her, he reached out his right hand to bring a nearby chair with him. Wooden legs dragged along the carpet, causing the allied ambassador to shoot a reprimanding look at the visitor.

A few more seconds passed where silence was punctuated by the sound of the scraping chair before he placed it in front of her desk and seated himself in a comfortable slouch.

By now she'd lowered her arms onto her desk, and onto whatever files she'd been looking through. Loose strands of hair had found their way out of whichever of the four pigtails they were allocated to, and dark bags had formed beneath her stunning teal eyes. She was clearly tired, to the point where she'd stopped herself from making sure her appearance was absolutely perfect. He'd never seen her as a person who openly commented about appearances and whatnot, but he knew that her personality demanded she take pride in every aspect of her being. But she'd been taught to be wary of her pride, which with the way she'd been brought up almost bordered arrogance. And so she'd been taught of the importance of humility too. She would take pride in the way she held herself and so she made sure to look as professional and flawless as possible.

So now when his dark gaze fell upon her somewhat disheveled figure, he knew she'd been worked too hard. By herself.

"Don't you think it's time to go home?" he asked her.

Stifling a yawn, she shook her head.

"Can't yet," she answered. "Not finished."

"Yes well, you don't seem to be forming the greatest of sentences so I think it's time you called it a night," he continued on, brows furrowed in a stern look.

She eyed him carefully. If she had any energy to spare, she would have argued back or hit him over the head but she didn't. Every strength and awareness she had was going to be put into the work sitting on her desk. For now, she just glared at him. And even then it wasn't as strong as she would normally have done.

Realising she would not give in to his request yet, he buried his hands further into his pockets and looked at the papers on her desk.

"The pile doesn't seem to have diminished since I came in to tell you to stop working last night," he commented.

A small smile graced her lips, lighting up her eyes a little more.

"You're telling me. You're not the one who has to go through it all."

Their conversations were civil at the very least. When they had work to do, they got it done. There was hardly time to argue and provoke each other after a mountain of paperwork had been climbed and with several others waiting to be conquered. And so, strangely enough, they had some of the most pleasant conversations in the early hours of the morning in the designated office of either, one insisting that it was too late to work whilst the other sat defeated behind a desk.

He looked at her seriously for a moment.

"Why haven't you finished? There weren't any meetings or anything on today. I mean, even I managed to get it all done by dinner."

For her part, she avoided looking at him, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug.

"I was busy today," she answered simply.

One ridiculously thin brow raised curiously in response.

"You were busy? Don't tell me you went to the nursery again…"

Her eyes flashed at him defiantly, and he knew that his estimate had been spot on.

"Why?" he lazily demanded. His hands buried themselves deeper into his pocket, shoulders hunching forward in an equally defiant gesture. "You know you're already behind in all the work you have to do. Today was meant to be the day you caught up with it all."

Orbs of teal rolled from left to right as she finally stood from her seat and walked around the desk, stretching as she did so. Leaning against the edge of the table, she folded her arms across her chest and looked down at his seated figure.

"What I do in my time is my business, Nara," she responded coldly.

He stared at her, before rolling his own eyes.

"Mendokuse," he said, inclining his head as it gently shook from side to side. "You're only making it harder for yourself," he half-muttered.

But she'd heard anyway. And she'd interpreted it for what he'd actually meant. By spending time at the nursery, it meant she'd had less time to finish the paperwork on her desk, which meant it inconvenienced the young Nara who was now sitting across from her at 1am, telling her to stop and go to sleep. So that he too could finally get some rest.

"You don't have to be here, you know," she told him in response to what he'd never stated, "_you're_ only making it harder for yourself."

There was a hint of smugness to her tone; tired as she was she still managed it.

"Troublesome woman, you know I wait for you."

His response was impatient and straight to the point, not wanting to dance around subjects which would require far too much effort.

And here is where their argument would end. At least once a week they'd have the same argument; Temari would spend her day doing something other than the work that had accumulated at her desk, which would cause her to have to work late, which resulted in the both of them staying late, which resulted in short tempers, impatience and this particular argument. Until they landed at the same conclusion: one would state that they waited for the other.

"I'm sorry, Nara."

Then the apology would come for making the both of them stay so late, the other would wave it away and they'd leave the oak desk and office with its mountain range of paperwork to be cared for the following day. And their cycle would continue.

Out in the empty streets and open air, they walked side by side in silence. The stars and moon were faint compared to the various lights that lined the streets in an almost salute-like manner to them. They were used to it now, having wandered the familiar trail from office to Temari's home in Konoha, but they'd admired the silence and beauty of it all the first few times.

"I still don't understand why you spend so much time at the nursery," he commented.

She'd been looking into the distance ahead of them, beyond the buildings and village itself to the open stretch of sky that gently held the twinkling stars above them. As his voice brushed away the silence, her teal eyes stopped looking beyond and focused on the various signs and buildings in front of her.

"You don't have to understand, Nara," she told him.

"Tch."

Silence.

"I mean, you could get your work done first or something," he continued on. Her gaze had climbed onto the roofs, leaping towards the night sky in the distance once more when his complaints brought her back again.

This time, she turned her whole head to face him and he turned to meet her gaze as well. It was inevitable then that he would see the look of disbelief, irritation and stubbornness on her familiar features. This was new to their routine; he didn't usually comment any more about what she did with her time. But then again, their deadline was coming up around the corner so she reasoned the current topic of conversation was brought on by that.

She sighed. He'd turned his attention back to where they were walking but she knew he was still thinking about it… or at least he would again at some point.

"Would you like me to help you understand?" she asked with another roll of her eyes. In all honesty she was more than happy to gloat if he accepted her help in anything but she kept the truth out of her expression. He merely glanced at her, a mannerism she knew to mean was equivalent to any other person scoffing at the obviously absurd idea. But at the same time, he hadn't rejected it. And that absence of denial was his answer: yes.

"There's not much to explain," she warned. "I like botany, you know that."

They rounded a corner and she continued to speak.

"And they asked for help with the nursery so I went. It's not that difficult to understand. Asking me to willingly spend time with plants instead of doing paperwork is like asking you to stare at clouds all day."

She smiled at her comparison, glancing over to see the corner of her companion's mouth turn up into a smirk.

"Mendokuse. I knew that. I just don't understand why you have such an interest in plants in the first place. Clouds are interesting. Plants… can be dangerous. Some are hideous, some smell funny, some are homes to horrible insect creatures regardless of how friendly Shino tries to tell us they are.

"Clouds are just… pleasant. Plants aren't."

Her smile had slowly turned into a frown with each word that left his lips, traveling along the gentle breeze to her ears. Without another word or warning, she leaped onto the rooftops and went in a completely different direction to their previous destination.

With a sigh, the shadow wielder followed, knowing exactly where she'd go. Clearly their conversation wasn't over. Weaving in and out of the towering buildings, he maneuvered his way over and around pipes and all sorts of things until he reached one of his favourite cloud-watching places. Of course, she'd changed its location meaning as the place they had serious conversations or debates in the middle of the night. He didn't know why she went there; quite possibly out of habit because she'd ended up there numerous times when she looked for him. But had they been less exhausted and had it been earlier on in the day, she would have led them to a place on his property where they could argue in private to their heart's content.

And sure enough, there she was, standing by the railing of his rooftop. Her arms were lazily folded, resting on the railing. The breeze caressed her face, brushing golden blonde hair out of her eyes as she stared out into the distance. Waiting for him.

"I don't know why I like them," she confessed to him. "I just do. Do you know why you like clouds?"

Since his arrival, he'd stood in the same place. And she knew he was there before he even acknowledged her. Hands once again stuffed into his pocket, the Nara heir lazily walked over to the railing, taking out his hands to rest his forearm on it as he stared into the same distance she did.

"They're carefree. Always different, always changing. Simple but complicated and just… aesthetically pleasing to the eye."

"Aesthetically pleasing to the eye," she echoed. "Kind of like stars. But the stars don't change often enough for us to notice."

Dark eyes fell on her curiously, following her gaze over the village and up to the endless stretch of deep indigo. So that's what she looked at. For all he knew she could just have been staring into space, lost in her own thoughts. But she just liked staring at the stars too, for apparently the same reasons as he stared at the clouds. Some nights he found her on his roof, staring out over the village the same way she did now. But he hadn't realised it was for the stars. On those nights he'd mostly ended up escorting her back to the office to finish some extra work they'd been given last minute. It seemed most of her spare time either brought her to the nursery or here, on his roof. In the daytime she was at the nursery, at night she was here, he knew. He just didn't understand why.

"Say what you will, troublesome woman," he said, eyes still tracing the stars in the sky, "but your flowers and stars aren't nearly as amazing or important as other things."

Here she looked away from the view, bright eyes narrowing.

"Other things like clouds? Shame on you, Shikamaru. You find a sort of peace and beauty in such simple things as clouds. How hard is to understand that I find something similar in another form of simplicity?"

He said nothing as she spoke, brows furrowed. And she continued.

"Shame on you not to see how special they are."

"Shame on you," he responded softly, "not to see that they're nothing compared to you."

This hindered her argument and rising temper. Her eyes widened in shock as he continued to stare at her with the same concentrated expression. Had she heard right? Had he actually said such a thing?

"Wha – "

Before she could ask, he turned his attention away from her and back onto the view. His facial expression relaxed and he spoke, as if explaining the importance of camaraderie to a young student at the Academy.

"You put so much of your time and effort into helping out at the nursery, or appreciating the simplicity and wonder of the night sky, that you're hurting yourself. And you don't see it."

He paused but still refused to look at her. And she continued to watch him curiously and in slight disbelief. What he was saying didn't make sense but it interested her enough not to interrupt him.

"Look at yourself, Temari. You're tired. Every single night you're overworked. Each day more papers pile up on your desk, added onto the pile you still haven't worked through from previous days. And instead of working to get through it all, you kindly help out at the nursery when they ask you. And you sacrifice your time, health and self by putting off the work you _have_ to get done and working into the early hours of the morning to do what you could have done in a normal working day had you not helped someone else.

"I'm not telling you to be selfish and stop helping them," he continued, "but you're not looking after yourself. And I thought you realised but now I know you don't."

She looked away from him now, eyes downcast as she took in his words and tried to find the truth in it. He looked at her now, eyes once again noting the lines of exhaustion that had etched itself onto her otherwise youthful features.

"Your botany and stars may be amazing, Temari, but they're nothing compared to the good heart and troublesome woman whose eyes look at them with the amazement you tell me you see."

Silence answered him and he left it at that, turning his attention back to the stars she revered. But she studied him; he was right but it wouldn't change what she'd do. She'd still help, she'd still take time to do something she liked even if it meant losing sleep. But now she'd do it knowing that if it became too much, if it affected her too much in a negative way, he would be there to tell her so. And, if need be, he would be there to make her help herself. There was a strange kind of comfort he offered. It warmed her heart and brought terrified, icy chills at the same time to know that she had complete faith and trust in him being there when she needed him.

In Suna, her brothers were always there to look out for her, regardless of whether or not she wanted them to. Here, Shikamaru did the same.

Teal eyes traced over his pineapple headed features once more, an action as natural to her as breathing, before she turned to appreciate her stars again.

In Suna, she and her brothers had often worked late nights but she didn't mind them. In fact, the Sand Siblings had often voluntarily chosen to work overtime… because even though they were sleep deprived, stressed and working, it was precious time they spent together after hours of being in separate parts of the village. And that made it worthwhile, bearable at the very least.

She loved her brothers, and cherished every moment they spent together.

A small smile graced her lips, and her eyes drifted over to her companion.

Here in Konoha, with Shikamaru ... it was the same.


End file.
